Interrogation Room
by Melody-The-Munchkin
Summary: Olivia Benson has to get a confession out of a suspect. Normal, right? What is the suspect is cop herself? Hoe do you get a confession out of someone who does the same thing, every day?


_**Interrogation Room**_

_**By Melody Brooker**_

"You must get a lot of confessions in here." 'Well that's not something you're getting out of me.'

"You come in here, with your big, shiny badge hanging around your neck, and your 9 millimeter gleaming off your belt. You got that 'I'm smarter and better than you' look in your eyes. You're no better than me. You're right at my level. 'Cause you and me, we're two peas in the same messed up pod."

Olivia watched Karen as she turned her chair toward the one way window. "You got your friends back there? Watching me, trying to figure me out. Trying to make me say I did it." She stood up, and looked right at the glass. "Good luck!"

"There's no one there." Olivia replied. "Not yet, anyways."

"Oh please. Don't treat me like I'm some dumb criminal. I know how you guys operate. I used to be one of you, remember?"

"Yeah, and then you got suspended for shooting an unarmed suspect, and never came back. Remember?" Olivia replied, sarcastically.

If looks could kill, Olivia would be dead in her seat. The two just sat on opposite sides of the table, eyes locked on one another.

"You think that little threat is supposed to scare me? Please. I'm not scared of anything. And, to set the record straight, that suspect was armed, but he threw the knife out the window as I shot him, and the cops never found it."

"That is the shakiest story I've ever heard, especially from a cop."

"You can't pin this on me. All of your evidence is circumstantial."

"You know, you're right. But as we speak, the police are searching your house. And when we find the knife with John Brankton's blood on it, and match the blood to the blood we found at the crime scene, and I'm going to nail your ass to the wall."

"You're not going to find a thing. Even if I did kill that guy, which I didn't, do you really think I'm stupid enough to hide the murder weapon in my own house?"

"Maybe not. But if you remember, one of the victim's cufflinks was missing. However, he had it twenty minutes earlier. He had his picture taken at a party at 10:07 and was found twenty minutes later, with one gold cufflink missing. It didn't just disappear, and you were the last person seen with him, alive. Someone took it, and I think we both know who that person was. Now you and I both know that most killers take 'trophies" to remind themselves of the crime and when they look at it, the relive the excitement of committing it. You may not have the knife anymore, but I'll bet you put that cufflink where you can see it everyday. So predictable… You're nothing special. You're just another perp. A lowlife, nothing perp."

Karen lunged at Olivia. Olivia jumped up from her chair and pinned Karen to the table. "Don't make me cuff you. You're this close to being thrown into the cage for another ten hours. Now, COOL IT!" Olivia let go and Karen darted to the corner of the room. She slumped down to the floor, panting heavily and shivering. A tear rolled down her red cheek, and she shook her head. "What have I done?"

"You used to be a good cop. We trained together. What happened to you? You didn't even know this guy. What did he do to you?"

As Olivia kneeled down beside her, Karen raised her head from her hands and said "He was my piano teacher when I was ten. He was nineteen. The abuse started right after my fourth lesson. It went on for three years. I told my mother what was going on, but… she didn't believe me. He didn't get arrested or anything. The statute of limitations ran out by the time I was brave enough to tell the police. The bastard never suffered for what he did to me. When I saw him at the party, talking to a little girl, all those memories came flooding back. All that hurt, pain, fear. It all came back, as if it had happened yesterday. So, I walked up to him, and asked if he would like to take a walk with me and we went into the garden. When we got in front of the fountain, I told him who he was. He just laughed and said "Well, let's pick up where we left off" and he leaned in to kiss me. So, as he leaned closer, I pulled a small knife out of my purse, and … I … stabbed him. He just fell onto the ground, clutching his stomach. When he stopped moving, I noticed a grate in the ground, leading to a sewer, and I threw the knife in there. I couldn't go back to the party, with my clothes all bloody. So I just walked to my car, and drove home. But, before I left his body, I took one of his cufflinks. Not to remember the crime, but to remember how he took my childhood, so I took his life… and his cufflink."

"Why did you have a knife in your purse?" Olivia asked.

"I can't carry a gun anymore. I know what people in this city are like, and so did my brother. He gave me the knife the day I got suspended, for protection. He used to hunt, and he gave me the smallest knife he had, just in case. I know what I did was wrong, but you've got to understand, I didn't know what else to do. What if he was abusing that little girl that I saw him talking to? I couldn't let him get away with it. I planned it, and carried out the murder." Karen stood up and held out her wrists. "I deserve to go to jail."

Olivia followed suit, and put the handcuffs around her wrists. "Karen Adams, you are under arrest for the murder of John Brankton. You have the right to…"

"I have the right to remain silent." Karen interrupted, as they walked toward the door. "Anything I say can and will be used against me in a court of law. I have the right to an attorney. If I cannot afford one, one will be provided for me." And the door closed behind them. Another confession, another day in the interrogation room.


End file.
